


Sublime

by ThirstyForRed



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Church of the Eternal Fire (The Witcher), Footnotes, Horror, M/M, Murder, Murder Mystery, Obsessive Behavior, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Quest: Carnal Sins (The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-24 05:21:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30067281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirstyForRed/pseuds/ThirstyForRed
Summary: Jacques de Aldersberg works as a special agent for Novigrad's Security Bureau. He is tasked with a serial murder case that no one in the city really wants to touch, and his only real ally is the coroner, Hubert Rejk. Who has his own secrets.This work uses footnotes, so readers can skip over more sensitive parts.
Relationships: Alvin | Jacques de Aldersberg/Hubert Rejk
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5
Collections: Modern Witcher Fest





	1. Saturday

**Author's Note:**

> Kinda inspired by Hannibal NBC, bc murder husbands duh, but also it does borrow some ideas from my Schadenfreude verse, tho it's less comedic. and i try to limit the amount of side characters, so nope Roderick won't be here :p
> 
> Also yeah, I did spend time on extra editing to make the footnotes. And yes, they work on mobile \o/ Simply click on a small number at the start of the paragraph and it should take you to the notes section, where is short summary of the passage, and then back to the paragraph right after nasty stuff
> 
> of course, if you think something more should be tagged or hidden with footnotes let me know in the comments, i will add it

" _The Critiques of the Eternal Fire,_ " the man read in an amused whisper title from the spines of a few books. He opened one of them and flipped through it, not really focusing on the contents he already knew. Then he placed the books he still held on the floor with the rest. There weren’t enough titles just about the Eternal Fire to create a pile as big as he had imagined, so other tomes, novels, poems, dictionaries, had to fill the space.

Either way, it was too late and the front door opened and closed, as Joris Aquinus, professor of theology at Oxenfurt Academy entered his apartment. He walked the small hallway, his steps going from loud and clear to muffled by the original ofieri carpet as he entered his living room. He hummed something to himself, a simple melody, but stopped abruptly - there was a faint light coming from his study. He wouldn't leave the light on, right?

Professor Aquinus's steps became clear again as he neared the door of the study and pushed them open. And there was the surprise - a catafalque build of the collection of his own books, and Jacques waiting for him.

 **1** Before Aquinus managed to utter even a single word, exclaim in surprise, or ask what an unknown man was doing in his home, Jacques grabbed him by the shoulder, spun, and knocked his head on the nearest wall. Professor failed limply to the floor.  
However, that wasn’t the end, only a beginning. Jacques pulled out a rope from the duffel bag he brought with him and bound the unconscious man, just for a while, so he wouldn't move too much during the process, and then propped him to a sitting position resting on the pile of books.

"Let's start with precaution: with one of the surgical tools I brought with me, I'm going to gouge the professor's Aquinus eyes. This way, even if I were to somehow fail, get myself caught, he won't be able to properly identify me," said Jacques to himself, his gloved hands ready bloodied. Aquinus started thrashing in pain, but with one Jacques's left hand blocking his mouth and nose he could only moan and cry, as he was mutilated. "Good" murmured the man once he finished, he patted crying Aquinus on the cheek in a mocking gesture.

"Why?" hoarsed in question tortured professor.

"Without eyes, now that you literally lost them, you will see that you were wrong. Blindly spreading false philosophy. Speaking up again the Eternal Fire." Jacques again reached into his bag and pulled a big bottle of clear liquid. "But I know how to fix you." He smiled with real mirth as he unscrewed the bottle. "How to put that fire back inside you."

Jacques forcefully grabbed professor Aquinus by the jaw, forcing him to open his mouth, and brought the bottle to his lips. The liquid burned Aquinus’ skin and insides of his mouth and throat, as he was forced to drink it.

"Formaldehyde," started Jacques. "Commonly known as a substance used in the preservation of various organic specimens. It actually has many more uses, depending on what percentage of the solution you are about to use. This is about 37%, just enough to kill a man. Burn him from inside out."

Aquinus spasmed, now in so much pain than he could ever imagine. Tortured but not dying yet.

"Cleanse him of the sin, if you will..." chuckled Jacques.

When over half of the bottle was poured down the professor's throat Jacques took it away and screwd it back. Again he reached to the duffel bag by his side.

"It will take a few more minutes for you to truly die, but with formaldehyde in your throat, it should no longer be possible for you to scream. So all things considered now I have as much time as I need - and this next part will be a bit harder than what we did so far." He ripped Aquinus' jacket and shirt open, buttons sprawling all over the room, and brought a clean scalpel to the professor's chest.

"First a Y-cut... Then getting past the ribs..." Jacques continued his explanations with a rib cutter in hand. "And... There - the heart."

The organ still moved in spasms as the killer brought his scalpel up to it, but stopped as soon as Jacques started to methodically cut it out from the chest of Joris Aquinus. With the revived heart in hand, he smeared the excess of blood on one of the gloves on still white in some places shirt of the now-dead professor.

"As with the eyes... How could you witness, recognize the miracle, when you can't really see or feel?" Jacques asked the corpse, and when Aquinus didn't respond he simply packed the heart and the rest of the equipment into the bag. From the fireplace that was still somewhat warm, he pulled out two small coals and placed them in the empty eye sockets. Then he rearranged some of the books that slipped from the pile and draped the body over it.

"Joris Aquinus - on a catafalque build of his own lies."

The door to the study opened behind Jacques, someone stepped in and said something, a question maybe. Jacques turned around and had to blink a few times to reorient himself. Caleb Menge was standing in the door to the room.

"Aldersberg. Are you finished?"

Jacques looked back to the pile of books, empty of body, and a small collection of photos he still held. No blood, no surgical tools. No heart and formaldehyde.

He wasn't the killer.

"Almost," Jacques smiled at Menge who only huffed at that. "But you can let them back in."

The other man murmured something under his breath but stepped back to the living room making space for forensic to get back on the crime scene and finish their work. Jacques gave the study one last look and followed the commander.  
Caleb Menge was a crude-looking man. Bald, with a big scar on his face, cutting his left eyebrow and cheek. Even clean shaved and in a nice suit, he looked like he was the perpetrator they were looking for.

But not his looks, big frame build for power, were the most troubling thing about Menge. He had those bright blue eyes of a man who knew way too many things and was clever enough to use this knowledge sparsely. With precision. He wasn't the type of man who had many friends in the city, but his enemies were cautious to not get in Menge's way.

All lights in the apartment were lit on, various officers and technicians milling around, photographing things, taking samples, and looking for fingerprints.

"They already took the body to the morgue?" Jacques approached Menge, who stood in the middle of the room commanding the work.

"We have been waiting for you almost two hours," grunted Menge. "This case has the top priority so Rejk was immediately called, on the spot he signed the autopsy off and made us pack the body."

"So I missed my chance at finally meeting the coroner himself?"

"Where have you been?"

"Driving back from Vizima.” Jacques sighed. “I just had the last few things that I needed to pick up from my old place. I didn't get the memo that I'll get back to work right this weekend..."

"Whatever. Rejk said that you can swing by the morgue around noon."

Jacques made a double-take at one of the clocks in the living room. "It's 3 am... What, is he pulling all-nighters?"

"As I said,'' snared Menge. "Top priority. Hemmelfart really wants all of us to finally catch this Concerned Citizen. So even the coroner works overtime."

Jacques stiffed jawn and flipped through some of the photos lying on the table. Pictures of body and scene, all details that seemed important in any way.

"Just from what I saw here I can say that the killer is someone very methodical. Pragmatic. They planned it in advance. You said that Aquinus was a professor on the Academi..."

"Faculty of Theology."

"Yeah... The books that the killer put on top of the pile - all authored by Aquinus. And just looking by titles critiques of the Fire-"

"We already knew that the culprit is a fanatic. He literally wrote it himself."

Jacques ignored it for now. Whoever the Concerned Citizen was, standing there in the other room didn't feel like the design of someone derailed. But maybe it wasn't what Menge wanted to hear.

"So where is the letter? Or is it also already in the lab?" Jacques changed the topic, his eyes searching the table.

Menge smiled in a nasty way.

"In the lab. You can check it out tomorrow, but nothing new, just the same old kind of crazy."

"He isn't crazy."

"That's not what the letters say..."

Jacques just huffed.

"Fine. Tell me then... Who found the body? Are there any signs of breaking in? The front door looked fine."

"Neighbor returning late home found the body - the front doors were left open, with the light in the hallways, so they decided to check in on the old man. They called soon after eleven pm. They also said that Aquinus was complaining about losing the second pair of keys..."

"Oh let me guess then - we found them here?"  
"Right on top of the newest sermon."

"Really nice of the killer..." Jacques looked around the apartment. "No fingerprints, footprints and no one saw or heard anything?" Menge only shook his head in response. "Well then... I can't say much more before I get that autopsy report, so unless there's anything more you want to tell me I'm gonna head back."

"There is." Menge grimaced and then turned towards the front door. Jacques simply followed after, out of the apartment and then the building.

The night outside was cold and wet, it stopped raining only an hour ago or so. Menge headed towards one of the big black cars with “NSB” painted in stark white that were parked all over the street. There he stopped and pulled a pack of cigarettes and lighter, Menge motioned offering one to Jacques, but he declined and pulled out his own.

Menge grimaced the second he got a whiff of smoke coming from Jacques's cig.

"Seriously?" he growled. "I could get your stupid ass busted right now."

"Nah," Jacques smiled with lips wrapped around his blunt. "You wouldn't, Caleb."

"Is that how Homicides roll in Vizima?

"No. They moved me to Homicides only a few months ago. That’s how Vizima’s Narcotics Division rolls."

"That's even worse," Menge snorted at that. He took a long drag of his cigarette and seized the other man with his eyes. "What are you even doing here, JDA?" and after a second as if he knew what answer was already forming in Jacques's mind. "I mean here, Novigrad, the Security Bureau."

Jacques closed his mouth, inhaled a bit of smoke, and looked back at Menge.

"All I know is what Hemmelfart told me."

"And what did the old fart tell you?"

"That the Novigrad's Security Bureau needs my help with catching a serial killer."

"You think you are some hotshot now that you caught some crazy in Vizima?"

"No. In fact, I would be the first one to admit I just had luck there. I'm not a profiler."

Menge finished his cigarette, smoked it right to the filter, crushed the ending between the fingers, and dropped it to the street.

"Hemmelfart wanted specifically you on the case."

"I owe him."

"We all do, JDA. And yet you're the only one he gives any favors to."

Jacques huffed in annoyance.

"What do you want me to say? That he dragged me back to Novigrad to spite you personally?" He too finished his smoke and put it out in a similar fashion. "It was a long night and I still have to unpack, and get some sleep, because apparently some fucko forces me to start work tomorrow."

Menge didn't say a word, he just eyed Jacques for a second and then with a simple "See you on the Isle" opened the car and climbed inside.

* * *

With a paper cup full of awful coffee and another massive headache, Jacques followed Menge through all twists and turns of NSB's headquarters. Even for a Saturday morning, there were plenty of people wandering the halls, doing whatever they had to do to keep the city from collapsing.

"Have you read all reports?" asked Menge, still powerwalking good two meters before Jacques.

"This case file is literally a box..."

"Well, maybe that's a sign that you should invest more of your time in learning fast reading."

Jacques ignored this and only tried to drink his coffee without burning half of his mouth.

Finally, they reached the morgue. It was cold inside. A spacious white room, white tiled floors, walls, and even ceiling, everything clean and untouched, and so very dead. With the operating tables standing in rows in the middle, covered in cloth that hid the corpses.

By one of such tables, uncovered, stood a man, the only living person in the morgue. Yet he didn't look exactly alive himself - he had brown curling softly hair, a neatly trimmed beard, was in protective scrubs in calming blue color. He seemed mellow, not exactly there, as he hummed to himself some simple melody, almost a lullaby, while leaning over a wide-open body with a bone saw in blooded hands.

Menge cleared his throat and the man raised his head looking at them quizzically. Jacques noticed that his eyes were so dark, they seemed almost black. Like bottomless pits.

"Doctor Hubert Rejk," introduced Menge. "This is special agent Jacques de Aldersberg. He will take over the case of the Concerned Citizen."

"I didn't see you at the scene last night," remarked Dr. Rejk as he started cleaning up whoever he was working on just moments ago. And then, without waiting for Jacques's answer: "Do you have experience with serial killers, special agent Aldersberg?"

"I caught three different murderers in Vizima. The first one earned me a promotion to Homicides."

"A policeman?" asked Rejk with a hint of confusion.

Even Jacques knew it wasn't common for NSB to let important cases be solved by police. It was different in Vizima and other cities or countries, but in Novigrad, the Bureau was above everyone.

"No," Menge started explaining. "Aldersberg was a special consultant for Vizima's Police Department on behalf of the Bureau. He was personally asked for a few years ago by Foltest."

"Intriguing," Rejk murmured with a single eyebrow raised.

He stepped from the body he was examining and started cleaning all used tools. It didn't take too long for him to pack it back inside the freezer, and pull out the corpse of Joris Aquinus.

"There he is..." Rejk put on a new pair of gloves and passed the box to Jacques and Menge. "So just as I told you last night, Menge..."

"Oh no," the commander put the gloves aside and stepped towards the door. "I'm not staying for the examination - Aldersberg is taking over the whole case. I have more pressing matters waiting for me."  
Jacques watched him walking away. He knew Menge from years before, he knew that the man had a reason to hand over the lead in this case. A reason that probably had less to do with the other things in the city and more with his own reluctance to solve this.

"Can we start?" The question brought Jacques' attention back to the table. Doctor Rejk gave him an amused look. It suited him, the softness, even if he was still the coroner, every day putting his hands inside the dead bodies.

 **2** Jacques put on his pair of gloves and nodded that he was ready. Together they went over all details of Joris Aquinus' tragic death. The time, between 9 and 9:30 pm last night, removed eyes, coals in eye sockets, chemical burns on lips and mouth cavity...

"Everything just the same as with his previous victims. Bound, fed formaldehyde, then he removes the eyes and opens the chest." Rejk pointed to the open chest, a red mess of ribs, lungs, everything still wet of residual blood.

It was worse to see it in person. With the photo, a man could still pretend that's not real... But Jacques saw worse. It meant nothing.

"Can you also open the abdomen? Let's see everything."

"His stomach is full of formaldehyde. That's all."

"I still want to see it."

Doctor Rejk eyed him for a moment, a long one. But then shrugged and reached for a fresh scalpel.

"It's going to smell," he said, and there was the coldness in his voice that Jacques never expected. Just moments ago doctor Rejk seemed to be a gentler creature.

But without waiting for Jacques he moved his scalpel over the corpse's stomach, enlarging the wound made by the killer. And soon it started to stench - if previously the smell of formaldehyde was just barely noticeable, opening the abdomen changed it drastically. Both men grimaced in disgust but didn't say much, too focused on examining the insides.

"Where... Where's the liver?"

Doctor Rejk leaned over, pulling the skin further away with forceps in his hand. "It was removed. Recently. With surgical tools."

"How recently?" Jacques looked up at Rejk. "Could the killer do this?"

The coroner gave him a long look, his eyes still dark and deep. He looked like he considered each word he was about to say. Methodical. Thorough.

"Man in age of Joris Aquinus wouldn't live long without the liver - besides I see no scarring suggesting that it happened before the murder."

"So the Concerned Citizen took a trophy other than the heart."

"It would seem so."

Jacques put his hands on the edge of the table, now fully focused on Rejk instead of the body. It was only his first day investigating this case, and yet it already felt to go way deeper than what he could be ever prepared for. There was something sinister.

And Rejk was still holding the eye-contact, cold and calculated. Earlier when Jacques heard him humming was the melody pleasant? Or was it grotesque?

"It's not the first time it happened?" questioned Jacques. "It's not the first time the Citizen took something?"

The coroner blinked once and with a sick wet sound removed his hands from Joris Aquinus' abdomen. "One of the earlier victims had their lungs removed."

"And you reported it."

"Of course I reported it," Rejk was now annoyed. "To Chappelle."

The swift fall of the grace of the head of NSB weeks before was discussed even in places far away from Novigrad. How Chappelle was exposed, arrested, and executed, and how Menge, responsible for this unveiling of truth was appointed in his place. Jacques never actually met the man, but even now, after his death, he left an impact on the city.

"And what Ministers for Security Affairs did with that information?" asked Jacques. But he already suspected what would be the answer.

"Considering that he never got even close to actually catching the killer? Not much I imagine."

Jacques stepped away from the corpse and examination table, with a hand freed from the glove he tried to massage his own neck.

"I need to know..." he started quietly. "I need to know if there's a possibility... If the killer took more than just the hearts of all other victims." He looked at the doctor, trying to read the guarded expression on his face as best as he could. "You checked the abdominal cavity each time, is that right?"

Rejk grimaced.

"Why? You should know better than anyone else how important such information is!" Jacques wasn't even attempting to hide how pissed he was now. "We could be dealing with organ harvesters all this time..."

Rejk reaped his gloves off and walked over to the desk by the sidewall. "Chappelle was leading the investigation, and he-" the coroner started in a raised voice, but Jacques cut in.

"It's not about what he did or didn't! You're the coroner here. You oversee all works in the morgue - it's literally your job to make sure that all autopsies are thorough!"

Doctor Rejk, second ago ready to retort, closed his mouth. He turned to the desk, looking for something among the folders, and finally grabbed one of the files.

"Here's your first draft of the autopsy report, special agent. You can familiarize yourself with it," he handed it to Jacques. "Updated version should be sent straight to the commandant's Menge office by the evening."

"Menge isn't the one leading this case," murmured Jacques, now somewhat ashamed about his outburst. But he was right to be angry.

Rejk returned to tidying up his desk, not even looking at the other man in the morgue. "He asked me for a copy of the report, and he's still the boss to both of us." And then, when Jacques didn't immediately walk out of the room. "Please, I don't want to keep you from your responsibilities, special agent Aldersberg."

* * *

**1** Jacques attacks Joris Aquinus, binds him and shortly tortures, by removing his eyes and forcing him to drink formaldehyde. Then Jacques cuts out his heart and takes it with him. All this time Jacques is describing out loud each thing he's doing.return to text

 **2** They process with examination of the body and go over some of Joris Aquinus' injuries. Then Jacques ask to open the abdomen. return


	2. Monday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's Monday and I'm into prosecco tonight so here's another chapter :*  
> No warnings for this one, other than my poor understanding of how flirting works and Nathaniel Pastodi being a weirdo

For decades now no one conducted any masses inside the old building on the Temple Isle that was turned into the Grand Library, and yet just passing the threshold Hubert Rejk could feel a longing ambiance of sanctity. Even after all renovations to make the space more modern and better suited to holding so many old books and manuscripts, the air still smelled faintly of myrrh. The open fires were of course forbidden within the library, but lightbulbs fashioned to look like torches lit the space. Not that they were needed, outside some side corridors, the Library's main hall and the chamber were always full of light.

All thanks to white marbles commissioned by one of the Hierarchs and shipped to Novigrad from ancient ruins littering the banks of Pontar and the glass dome right in the center of the structure. The light would fall through the stained glass and reflect the lives of saints on the floors of the library.

Looking clockwise from the main entrance there were four of them. Saint Gregory, the patron of warriors and protector, depicted as in his legend, still preaching while fighting heretics bent on killing him, his words for full of truth and fire, the attackers and he himself all burned alive. Saint Anselm, the pilgrim, shown evangelizing, bringing coals, woods, and the Eternal Fire to commoners, sitting on the simple chair, wearing bright red robes of the Hierarch of the Church. Then was George the Ascetic - once a wealthy nobleman and merchant, yet during the Great Famine he too started lighting the fire and looking for hope, and he sacrificed his fortune to save the city. Shown giving away all he ever possessed, his gold, his clothes, his food, and even his blood, lightning fires with the torch in his hand. And of course the last one, Lebioda, beloved by children evangelists who traveled the whole continent and fought the dragon. And died to the beast, but the legend never focuses on that aspect so much. Depicted with a bright torch in his right and an open book of sermons in left, overtaken, but not overwhelmed, by the giant shadow of the dragon. The fire of each saint raised, spiraling in stark red towards the center of the dome.

And there was Jacques de Aldersberg, sitting at the table right underneath the center of the spiral.

"Stradidd of Talgar when creating his "The life and fire four Saints" was inspired by frescos unearthed from Shaerrawedd. The mysterious artworks left by Aen Seidhe, puzzles for us to figure out, but with no real answers. The Spiral that keeps on, both twisting into itself and unraveling. Eternal like the fire, marking both the beginning and the end." Hubert stopped to the right of the man, who now leaned back in his chair, looking up at the Spiral above him. "At least that's what Roderick de Novembre claims in his works..."

Jacques de Aldersberg straightened in his seat a bit and he turned to Hubert. "Doctor Rejk," he greeted the man, a bright smile on his face.

He had that youthful energy about him, that in Hubert's eyes made him seem younger than he had to be. Menge, who was approaching his 40s, claimed they were peers, so Aldersberg couldn't be that much younger. He smiled a lot, more than one would expect from the NSB agent assigned to brutal murders, and his green eyes sparkled with mischief. He had short hair and a neat beard, both in a color that suggested that as a child he was blond. And he sat there, dressed down compared to the suit he wore back when visiting the morgue, in simple jeans pants and a maroon hoodie.

All of that made Jacques de Aldersberg look out of place on the Temple Isle. He was too bright, too naive, too childish. Almost as if he was aware of it. Knew how to put it on like a mask.

"Special agent, Aldersberg."

"I hope that despite how our last meeting went, you had a pleasant weekend, doctor," said Aldersberg, still polite and pleasant.

It was way more than Hubert could have expected, but it was good. He didn't want the agent angry or wary.

"I did, thank you," he said only with a faint trace of surprise at this warm welcome. "But I see that you had..."

Aldersberg chuckled and motioned at his face, still holding some evidence of tiredness. "I look like shit, I know," he said.

Despite all this energy terminating from him, he did look like he didn't have much sleep in the past 72 hours. And by his elbow were 3 empty coffee mugs with the logo of the cafeteria located in one of the old naves of the library.

"I wouldn't use those exact words, but yes, you do look quite exhausted.”

"I have a lot of homework to do if I want to get them."Aldersberg pointed at the mess of notes and books littering his desk. "Literal years of reports, notes, and theories to go through."

Hubert eyed all of this for a second, thinking.

"That's the reason why I wished to see you, special agent Aldersberg. Can I?" he pointed to the free chair on the other side of the desk.

Aldersberg motioned with an open palm. And then smiled, again.

"Doctor... We are coworkers under the same boss. My name is Jacques."

Hubert sitting down almost chuckled quietly. "Well then... In this case, please simply call me Hubert."

The next few seconds they spend just looking at each other. It felt different than in the morgue, there was no animosity or wariness. Hubert was simply... Curious of the other man.

"I wished to apologize," he started. "For what happened last Saturday. As well, as to express my thanks, that you didn't report my mistakes to Caleb Menge."

"I was the first to raise my voice," said simply Jacques. "Besides, I know Caleb well enough, he doesn't care that much. He wouldn't care if I tried to tell him. He would just shrug and say it's my problem to deal with."

"I knew he wasn't interested in the case, but..." Hubert frowned. "He offered you no aid at all?"

Jacques moved some of his notes around, not really putting them in any order that Hubert would recognize.

"It would be easier if not or the fact that some figures in the Church actually agree with the preaching of our killer. Catching the Concerned Citizen very likely means removing someone from the Temple Isle."

The silence hanged there for a minute, marking how gravely things have changed for Novigrad.

"Now I see why neither Chapelle nor Menge wanted to have anything to do with this case," finally murmured Hubert and Jacques nodded solemnly at that.

"I suppose his Hollines Hemmelfart thought it would be easier for me," started Jacques. "Seeing that I have no friends or contacts in Novigrad. That I'm almost a stranger. Fewer bridges to burn when I finally figure it out."

"And when will that happen?"

"As soon as possible. I don't want people dying, whether the Church finds them innocent or not." He looked up from his piles of papers and books and turned his eyes to Hubert. "But first I need to understand the Concerned Citizen, his thought process..."

"His vision."

Jacques nodded and then grabbed one of the photocopies from the top of one of the piles.

"Have you read them?" he asked handing it to Hubert.

"In passing."

It was a copy of one of Concerned Citizen's sermons, written on typing machine in deep red ink. There were notes all over the margins, written in messy cursive, and one of the passages was highlighted in yellow. Hubert cleared his throat and started reading out loud.

"Remember, dear people, that a fire once lit cannot be stopped, that it consumes everything in its path and only ceases to rage once all has been turned to ash. Men cannot flee this element, and if they bow before it, if they let it into their hearts, they too turn to ash."

"He's a fanatic," Hubert looked at Jacques over the top edge of the page. The other man had a peculiar look on his face, which turned into an easy smile as soon as he realized he was being observed.

"He isn't. Not truly," said Jacques and started looking for some other specific page "What's the number on top of yours?"

"06 Imbaelk."

When he located the page he wanted, Jacques scanned it for a second, looking for the right passage.

"The fire we lit cannot be stopped,” he read out loud in a clear voice. “It will consume everything on its path and stop only when all is burned to ashes. Sinners cannot escape or fight it. All that can be done is bow before the Eternal Fire, let it into our hearts, and eventually, burn as well." He looked at Hubert and then turned the page he was holding, showing the highlighted text. "This is the sermon Grand Inquisitor Helveed gave in the Grand Cathedral for the celebrations of Saovine. And this..." he pointed at Citizen's sermon Hubert had still in his hand. "This is what was found by the sixth victim a few weeks later during the Midwinter."

Hubert took both pages and skimmed them quickly, comparing texts for a second. "What does it prove? That he's plagiarizer?"

"Among other things. But mostly I think he isn't… As crazy and fanatical as he would like us to believe he is. All crime scenes are way too clean, controlled. He leaves no shreds of evidence or witnesses, his letters are more eloquent than the actual sermons he bases them on."

"Human minds tend to be more complex than we give them credit for. Maybe this perfectionism is a symptom of another kind of madness."

"Maybe,” murmured Jacques after a second of eyeing Hubert. “Or maybe it is about the missing organs..."

A shame. Hubert clenched his hands and exhaled slowly - he was caught red-handed. Or close enough.

"I don't want to blame you for it." Jacques continued as if he didn't notice. Or simply ignored, trying to spare the coroner further embarrassment. "As you said, both Chappelle and Menge were leading the case before, and yet they never took a note of that. I can't simply disregard the organ harvesting theory."

For a long minute, Hubert studied the marble floor of the library, the mosaic of colors and patterns in the cold stone. With tiny veins tinted red, it almost looked like a crime scene.

"I think you can..." he finally murmured and looked back up at Jacques. "The way the hearts are cut out or the other organs... It's not about preserving them. They're useless. He just takes them as, I don't know, exhibits for his collection."

"Is that your opinion as a doctor of medicine?" asked Jacques. Both his look and voice were serious, deprived of earlier easiness.

"Yes, it is."

"Well then," Jacques leaned in, hands and eyes on his books and notes. "I trust you. Back to the fanatic angle..."

Hubert opened his mouth and then closed it, and then, not really able to stop himself, despite knowing very well how bad is it to ask, he said:

"Oh? That easily?"

Jacques smirked. Like a sly fox, looking down at his prey.

"Earlier today I got a good look into Aquinus' health history at the Vilmerius Hospital," he said." The man wasn't the healthiest. His family doctor, von Gratz, told me his liver would be basically useless."

Hubert couldn't help himself but grimace hearing the name of the doctor. Or think about the small dinner he hosted the previous night, and how some of the guests would have appreciated if he had extended a special invitation to Joachim von Gratz. Maybe in the future…

“I’m reading a lot about the Eternal Fire. History, symbology,” murmured Jacques.

“Are you trying to put his sermons back in the context?”

“Yes. The sermons, the coals in eyes, maybe even the use of formaldehyde… There's so much fire. I also have some things on other philosophies and religions, just in case."

"I don't see much dissertations on Aen Seidhe or Gharasham..." said Hubert after silently reading some of the covers.

Jacques snorted at that. He gestured around them as if showing off the library. "There isn't much about either in the Grand Library. For reasons, I imagine," he added with irony.

Reasons being rampant racism, close-mindedness, and other such things. But Hubert appreciated how open Jacques seemed to be with him. Especially for someone working on the Temple Isle. Even such a tiny remark about the wrongs of the Church could cost someone less fortunate their job. Jacques was either a brave idiot or someone way better connected than he gave himself credit for.

In the end, didn’t Menge say that special agent Aldersberg was friends with his Holiness? However, even having Hemmelfart on his side, Jacques could use some new friends. He said it himself.

Hubert smiled.

"There are still other places where you could find such materials."

"Oxenfurt... Of course.” Jacques sighed. “Shame that with this whole political turmoil even the NSB badge won't get me inside the Archives."

"I imagine someone from the Academy could sneak you inside."

Jacques chuckled, but then turned his gaze down to the desk. "Again, I'm afraid I don't have such friends in the city. I only moved here last week."

"I taught medicine at the Academy,” blurted Hubert, almost as if his tongue didn’t consult it with his mind. “I could take you there."

At that Jacques smiled, his eyes looking curiously at the coroner. However, Hubert wasn’t done yet:

"But I suppose it would be even easier for you to seek a private collector who already has the books. Here in Novigrad."

Jacques didn’t say anything, only cocked his head to the side, and looked with amusement in the eyes. And then he straightened himself in his chair and with a clear intent moved his foot under the table. He tapped Hubert’s foot one, then twice, and said:

"And you are such a collector, Hubert?"

That, a clear interest, wasn’t anything Hubert was prepared. It wasn’t his plan. But Hubert prided himself in his adaptation skills. So he didn’t move his legs and smirked.

In turn, Jacques sent him yet another bright smile of his. Radiant like a sun.

"You could visit me this Friday,” proposed Hubert. Not whether he will come as too forward. It didn’t seem like Jacques was the type of man who would have a problem with it. “I will prepare the books as well as dinner."

"I will gladly take your offer and invitation…” Jacques said with a wink. “But I feel like you should know that some people, like Menge for example, would caution you against me.” He gestured vaguely towards the mess on his desk. “Considering everything I'm investigating."

"Caleb had unfortunately already warned me about you. And initially, I even believed him. That's actually the second thing I wanted to apologize for..."

"What?” snorted Jacques. “Did he call me an arrogant whore again? No worries, I once said that he's ignorant and uncultured right in his face. Just not in those exact words. Besides,” he added after a second, “his opinion of me isn't that far from the truth.”

At that, Hubert hmmed and with intent pressed his foot to the other man’s shoe. "Are you an arrogant man, Jacques?"

He grinned smugly.

"No, I'm a whore."

This man certainly wasn’t anything Hubert could have expected - his plan was to simply make amends and be friendly. The coroner felt a traitorous blush creeping up to his face when he openly laughed. And he started to get genuinely excited for the weekend, even if they would have to finish their evening earlier, it still did promise to be memorable.

Jacques leaned back a bit in his chair, and only now Hubert realized how close they both were. Or that the library staff was now giving him an evil eye for such a loud display of amusement.

“That dinner,” said Jacques. ”Is this a work-related affair or a social one? Just so I know what the dress code is."

"You mentioned that you don't have that many friends in Novigrad,” Hubert said after a second. “So I'm willing to offer both my books and time."

"That doesn't exactly answer my question..."

"Let's say,” Hubert said in low voice, as he rose from his seat and started readying himself to leave. “That it's a work thing that can easily turn into a social one. Does that make it clearer?"

"No, not really, Hubert," Jacques murmured with a smile.

Passing him, Hubert leaned over the man. So close he could feel Jacques’s body heat and smell. It was pleasant, clean, with notes of eucalyptus and mint.

"Dress nicely," he murmured and Jacques chuckled.

Hubert walked away, deeper into the library, not towards the exit as he initially planned. There was one of the staff members, the one whose scolding gaze Hubert noticed minutes ago, trailing behind him. In a distance, looking over the sections of Philosophy and Theology, and never losing sight of him. Hubert walked through sections, getting away from the main hall, into the corridors, trying to either lose them or lure them out.

He saw an exit sign, a fire escape, and headed that way. It was darker in the old part of the building, places that were once administrative offices of the Church, and no longer the temple. 

Suddenly a man cuts into Hubert’s path, appearing from one of the side corridors. A staff member. Nathaniel Pastodi.

Pastodi never looked like much. Very unassuming. A nice man. Sort of person that neighbors describe as quirky but harmless, that they would never guess what he was doing in his soundproofed basement, away from the prying eyes.

"I'm sorry,” said Pastodi in an emotionless customer service voice. “Only the staff members of the Library can enter the archives."

"I was looking for the exit, Nathaniel," snarled coldly Hubert.

Pastodi, simply shrugged and with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, he said:

"Wrong way, doctor." The door marked as the fire exit was right behind him.

"Have you read the newspapers, doctor?” asked Pastodi. “We have the newest issues displayed by the main entrance. The main article in this week's Truthseekers should interest you the most. There's a big photo on the front page and the rest of the article follows on pages 4 to 7."

"Sound's like it's very thorough."

"It is. I really enjoyed the photos.”

"What you liked about them?" asked Hubert. He didn’t want to get the answer, but he already knew that he would hear one anyway.

"The versatility," Pastodi smiled. "But there's one that caught my attention in particular. Doctor, do you know which one?"

"No Nathaniel, I have no idea. I haven't read the paper yet."

"It's the one of the man you just talked to.” He let it hang in the air for a second. “They even describe him as cunning. What do you think? Is he that cunning?"

They weren’t that far from the rest of the library visitors, the faint ambient of steps and voices was still clearly audible. Hubert wished it wasn’t. That they were somewhere else, and no one could walk up to them any moment.

He breathed slowly.

"I think that you should stop thinking about it. For your own good, Nathaniel."

“Thank you, but I'm safe,” said Pastodi. And then there was something on his face that could be mistaken for real concern. “Although I do worry about you, doctor."

"No need,” snared again Hubert.

And then simply walked past Pastodi, towards the door, and grabbed the handle. Hubert pressed on them with all his weight but they didn’t budge. 

Behind him, Pastodi giggled.

"I told you, doctor. There's no exit."

Hubert stormed past the man, not even caring to respond to the goodbye, and headed towards the main hall and entrance.

He sent one last glace to the Jacques, still sitting at the same table. He looked lost in thoughts, leaning back in his chair and looking up at the stained glass above him. The midday sun was falling through the Spiral and on to his, soaking him whole in red. Tiny pieces of broken glass creating spinning patterns on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in the next chapter: typewriters lore! the ultimate cockblocking literary tool aka caleb menge! and whatever I'll learn in the meantime about keeping amphibians as pets! (maybe, I'm still unsure about the last one)


End file.
